Just a Dream
by TeceTyeIntyale
Summary: How did the demon know about Jess? My take on Sam's last couple of months at college with her. Set roughly 2 months before the pilot. Rated T to be safe. Minor spoilers for the pilot episode and possibly Home.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a Dream**

**Summary:** How did the demon know about Jess? My take on Sam's last couple of months at college with Jess. Set roughly 2 months before the pilot. Rated T to be safe. Minor spoilers for the pilot episode. This isn't AU at all right now but might be as the second season expands on Sam's abilities, the demon, and what it all means.

**Rating:** T

**Note:** This is a pretty dark fic, in terms of Sam's condition. In the episode "Skin," he tells Dean that he never really fit in at Stanford. From what we see of him at Stanford in the pilot episode, he's perfectly normal in all outward appearances, so his not being able to fit in (or at least his feeling that he didn't fit in) was probably something internal. I've taken that idea and expanded it into a story centered around how he really felt at Stanford and what his relationship with Jess really meant to him, as well as my take on how the demon found out about Jess. If Sam is so important, the demon should have been keeping track of him somehow, right?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters; this is purely for fun.

**Chapter 1**

He had been sitting there all day, thinking. Just thinking.

Half of his face was cast in the murky shadows of dusk's light filtering through the apartment's small window, the other half in darkness. His tall frame was hunched over in defeat, and he ran a hand through the long brown curls hanging down into his eyes. No matter how many times he thought about it, he always came to the same conclusion.

He couldn't tell Jess.

He'd thought about it every summer for the past two years, and off and on during the school year, but mostly in the summer. It was during the summer when he felt the loneliness take over. All of his friends fled Stanford for home as soon as finals were over, and he was left behind. Some of them—even Jess—had offered to let him come home with them for the summer, but he had declined. The fact of the matter was that he no longer had a home to return to.

At one point, halfway through the summer when his isolation had become almost unbearable and the long days before school started back up stretched out endlessly ahead of him, he had thought about calling his Dad. But as soon as the thought occurred to him, it vanished. John Winchester had made it clear, when Sam chose Stanford over a life of hunting, that he saw it as a betrayal. The last order John had ever given Sam played over in his mind—_If you're gonna leave, don't bother comin' back_—and he knew that even if he ever found enough courage to call, his father wouldn't want to talk to him.

That, of course, led to his brother. Dean. It took a little longer for Sam to eliminate calling Dean as a possible option. He and Dean had always been close, which had made their separation that much harder. Dean had been the one to help Sam figure out how to play soccer one afternoon when they were supposed to be practicing shooting guns loaded with rock salt. Sam had been 11, Dean, 15, and it took them almost the whole afternoon to learn all the rules of the game and really get playing, because Dean had never played, either. Dean had been the one to help Sam learn how to recite his lines for the school play late at night one year when Sam was a junior in high school. Dean was supposed to be teaching him how to properly pronounce Latin incantations at a volume high enough to be heard over angry spirits and screeching demons, but their Dad was out late every night that week going after a nasty spirit that had needed more attention than the usual salt-and-burn, and Dean had caved. Dean had never been able to refuse Sam those little pieces of the normal life he craved, and for that, he was grateful.

Sam had hoped that Dean would at least be secretly proud when he got a full ride to Stanford and announced that he was taking it. But if Dean had felt anything either way, he hadn't shown it. Sam and John had fought and Dean had looked on silently, as always. Sam still wondered if Dean thought the same as their Dad, that Sam had deserted them, or if Dean agreed with Sam's decision but wouldn't admit it because of their father. No matter what, Dean had never and most likely would never disobey John's orders. It was one thing during a hunt, when trusting each other and obeying an order without hesitation might mean the difference between life and death. But outside of that…Sam had always wanted to take charge of his own life, and couldn't understand why Dean didn't. Therefore, another summer had passed in which Sam thought about calling his brother but never actually did.

This summer had been a little different than the last two, though. He had convinced Jess to stay for a couple weeks after finals so that they could pick out an apartment close to campus. He'd live in it during the summer, and she would move in when she came back for school. It was a big step, but they both felt that it was the right one to take.

He loved her. He loved her more than he'd ever thought he could love anybody, and that's why he hated lying to her so much. John and Dean had taught him how to lie, and he'd perfected the talent over his high school years when they began including him on hunts (It was best not to tell the doctors at the hospital that it was a poltergeist that had slammed you into the wall and then thrown you down the stairs). He could have made up anything about some happy family or troubled childhood and Jess would have believed him, but to him, that was worse. He'd rather lie by omission, tell her as little as possible about his life before Stanford and avoid all the questions that were too dangerous to answer.

He hadn't ever lived in the same place for more than a few months because his Dad's job forced them to move a lot, but he wouldn't go into detail about what his Dad did. Yes, his mother had died in a fire when he was sixth months old, but he wouldn't tell her that the fire wasn't an accident, that his Dad had walked into his nursery to find Mary suspended on the ceiling right before she burst into flames. No, he'd rather not talk about the long, thin scar that ran all the way across his chest down to his hip, because that was from the wendigo in Montana when he was 14. He kept in shape, practiced martial arts every day, and went to a shooting range every Saturday because he wanted to, but he never told her that what he really wanted was to be able to protect her from all the things out there in the dark that nobody else believed in if one ever showed up close by.

He wanted so badly to tell her everything, but he had long since realized that that would be selfish. Sam knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that some kinds of ignorance really were bliss. Everyone else around him had a sort of innocence that he had never had, and it shone in Jess like a beacon of light that kept him from slipping back into the darkness. He couldn't be the one to destroy that. He couldn't tell her that the things you see in horror movies are real, that he'd seen and experienced things like them all his life, and that he'd seen people ripped to shreds because they couldn't get there in time to save them.

He couldn't tell her, and that was that. He had had another lonely summer, but he had survived things a lot worse than loneliness before. Besides, it was over now. He had worked his last shift stocking shelves at the local grocery store that morning. Jess would be here any minute, and all of his friends would be back by tomorrow.

Sam stood up, the springs of the old mattress squeaking as they relinquished his weight, and he stretched up to his full height. He smoothed the wrinkles he had made on the covers and turned on the light, willing its florescent aura to chase away his morbid mood, and made sure everything was in order for Jess's arrival.

-------

"So…are we doing something tonight?" Sam heard Jess say from the kitchen.

_So much for getting a head start on my reading,_ Sam thought, but couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from turning up in simple, glorious contentment. Though the textbooks he had just purchased for the classes he'd be starting tomorrow would normally command his never-ending intellectual curiosity and attention, he could never refuse Jess when she wanted to spend time with him.

He heard her come into the room and move to lean over behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. The presence that was wholly hers—white daisies and the summer sun after the rain—surrounded him as her long blonde curls fell down over his shoulder.

"It's our last night of freedom…" she sang in his ear tantalizingly. He made a show of sighing in defeat as if he was having to tear himself away from the riveting pages of _An Effective Closing Argument: The Lawyer's Most Overlooked Advantage _in order to give her his full attention; she didn't have to know she'd had him as soon as she had opened her mouth.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, turning to look at her.

She shrugged. "You have any ideas?"

"We could go out to eat. Maybe try a nice restaurant for a change, something more expensive than the greasy spoon down the street."

She laughed and he smiled. Neither of them had much extra spending money, so a lot of their "nights out" over the past few years had consisted of burgers and, if they were lucky, a movie.

"You must have been really good at stocking shelves, if you can afford to take me somewhere nice all of a sudden," she teased.

"Oh, I was," he replied with mock sincerity. "In fact, I think I've found my new calling. No more working my ass off to get into law school!" He closed the textbook he had been reading with a flourish to accent his newfound enthusiasm for minimum wage work and grinned at her defiantly.

Jess wrinkled her nose in obvious disapproval of his plan, but there was mirth in her eyes. Suddenly, he saw her expression change into one of devilish amusement, and he knew she'd had an idea that he probably wouldn't like.

"_I _know where we can go eat," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Where?"

"Ben's Pizza Place!" she exclaimed triumphantly, and Sam groaned in protest. He hadn't been there in almost two years, and he would prefer to keep it that way.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun!" she said.

"There will be nothing _fun _about reminding me of the disaster that was our first date."

"How many times do I have to tell you, it wasn't _that _bad!"

"It was compared to how I wanted it to go," he said sulkily.

She laughed. "Well, I had a good enough time to agree to go out with you again, didn't I? And that's what counts, right?"

"I guess," he responded, but knew that it wasn't what counted for him. He had wanted it to be really special. He had planned out everything and had gotten them reservations at a really nice steakhouse in Palo Alto. They had arrived at the restaurant all dressed up only to find that there had been a "misunderstanding," and the restaurant didn't have their reservation down. Sam had felt awful, and they'd spent a good hour and a half walking around to some of the other nice restaurants in the area trying to find somewhere to eat with no luck. They were so hungry that when they passed the tiny, hole-in-the-wall Pizza joint known as Ben's Pizza Place, Sam admitted defeat and they went in to order, fancy apparel and all. They had had a good time, but Sam had felt guilty and was disappointed over their ruined plans.

"Ben's might not be anybody's first choice of restaurant," Jess said wryly, "but it's still where we had our first date, so it's special. We should go."

"Alright," Sam conceded and moved to get up as Jess unwrapped her arms from around him. He picked up his keys and wallet and looked up to see Jess going into the closet.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused. Why did she need to change to go to a pizza place that had probably barely passed its last health inspection?

She poked her head out of the closet door long enough to flash him an impish grin. "Putting on the dress I wore on our first date. And _you_ better wear your nice suit."

She retreated into the closet before Sam had time to protest. He stood there in disbelief for only a moment before he laughed and followed her into the closet to retrieve his suit, knowing that it would be futile to resist.

"Hey, have you heard from Pete?" he asked as he rummaged on the floor for his shoes.

"No," Jess replied, her voice muffled from deep in the recesses of her hanging clothes. "Why?"

"I haven't talked to him for over a week. He told me he'd call me when he got back on campus, which was supposed to be yesterday. Tried calling him this morning and got his voicemail."

"Well, maybe he decided to come later, or he's busy or something," Jess replied.

"Yeah…guess so," Sam said, frowning. He knew Jess was probably right, but it didn't keep him from worrying. Pete probably would have called if he had just decided to come later. What if something…

Sam banished that thought before he could complete it. He was being paranoid. Just because his friend didn't feel the need to update Sam on his every move didn't mean that he had had an encounter with some_thing_.

Sam spotted the shoes he was looking for and picked them up. He was going to humor Jess by getting dressed up and going to a crappy pizza place, and he was going to enjoy every moment he had with her before classes started and they got too busy to do stuff like this. He wasn't going to think about anything supernatural, not even once. He wasn't even going to think about Dad and Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The first week of classes passed in a whirlwind of readjustment and reality checks. Professors did their best to scare their new students into working hard, the students automatically began complaining about work to old friends as they were reunited, and confused freshmen walked around with their faces buried in campus maps even while they walked with a purpose that seemed to say they knew exactly where they were going to end up. It was like the campus had suddenly awakened from a long summer hibernation, and now, with students everywhere laughing and talking, it was alive again.

It was a glorious week for Sam. He complained about the homework and tests and papers like everyone else, but really, he relished the work, the routine and _normalcy _of it all. He could hear Dean's cocky voice in his head calling him "geek boy," as he so often had when Sam wanted to skip out on hunts in high school to finish writing papers, but Sam didn't care. He was no longer alone.

He had been nervous about living with Jess at first, but had found it easier and better than he'd ever expected. He loved seeing her when they both got home from a long day of classes, eating dinner with her every night, and just knowing she was there while they did their homework in silence and as he drifted off to sleep every night. The apartment that had seemed so oppressive over the long summer had quickly become the closest thing to home that Sam could remember. He supposed the house they had lived in before Mom died would have felt like home, but the various run-down apartments and motels they had lived in afterwards, moving from town to town so often, had never felt like home to Sam.

It had been a long Friday. The first week of classes had, as always, been exhausting, and Sam was drained. He exited the library with his half-completed research paper in hand—it wasn't due for another week, but he had wanted to get a head start—eager to get back to the apartment and Jess.

As he walked away from the building, a familiar figure hurried towards it, passing right by him. He stopped, brow furrowed in confusion, and turned to yell after him.

"Pete! Hey, Pete!"

His friend stopped and turned around, and Sam jogged over to close the distance between them.

"Where have you been, man?" Sam asked. "I've been trying to get in touch with you since last week!"

Pete reached up to run a hand through his short blonde spikes and shifted his weight, both signs of nervousness that Sam had been taught to pick up on. He'd seen them plenty of times before, but never from Pete. Pete smiled at Sam reassuringly, and Sam noticed that something about his sky-blue eyes was different.

"Yeah, sorry," Pete replied. "I've just been really busy is all."

"Come on, Pete," Sam said quietly. "You haven't been _just busy_. It's not like you not to call me back for so long. Did I say something last time we talked, or do something? Did something happen?"

A look of annoyance passed over Pete's face fleetingly, as if he had been expecting Sam to just let it go at that, but he was back to normal a second later. If Sam hadn't been an unusually observant person, he wouldn't have noticed.

"Alright…" Pete said hesitantly. "Something happened. But it's nothing you did. I'd just rather not talk about it, alright?"

Sam looked at Pete, confused. He was really acting strange. Whatever happened had to have been big. The hunting instincts that had been drilled into Sam by his father told him to push it for all he was worth, but Sam refused to do that to his friend. If Pete didn't want to talk about it, he would respect that.

"Alright," Sam replied. "I was just worried about you, that's all. I was looking forward to seeing you again, haven't seen you all summer."

Pete smiled weakly. "Yeah, me too."

An uncomfortable silence fell for a moment. Sam hated uncomfortable silences, and wondered why one of his closest friends was suddenly so uneasy around him.

"So…" Sam said, "what's your hardest class this term, you think?"

Pete grimaced. "Psychology. I got Yockey."

"Hey, me too!" Sam exclaimed. "Guess we have it at different times. Can you believe she's already giving us a test next Wednesday?"

"I know, it's so soon."

"Want to study together on Tuesday?"

"Uh…sure," Pete said, looking uncomfortable again, deepening Sam's confusion.

"Um…six good?" he asked tentatively.

"Sure, I'll meet you right inside the library."

"Alright, but…you don't want to get together this weekend or anything, with Jess and I and everyone else? I think we're all going to do something."

"No…" Pete replied, grimacing again. "I've got a ton of history reading to do for Monday, and some other stuff, too…sorry."

"Nah, it's okay, I understand," Sam said quickly. "I'll just see you Tuesday?"

"Yeah, Tuesday," Pete said, and smiled again before turning and heading into the library.

Sam stood there for a moment after Pete had gone into the building, trying to figure out what had just happened. Pete was acting very strange. It had to be because of whatever had happened, but Sam had no idea what it could be. Family crisis, maybe a family death? Something with his old high school friends? He didn't have a girlfriend, so it couldn't be that…

He started walking away from the library again, determined not to let it bother him. He had meant it when he had decided he would respect Pete's privacy; it wasn't his job to pry into Pete's problems. If he didn't seem any better by Tuesday, Sam would think about talking to his roommate.

----------

Sam thought about the past again that night, even though he had promised himself on that last day at the end of the summer that he wouldn't think about those things anymore.

It was Inigo Montoya who made him do it. He and Jess had decided to have a relaxing Friday night at the apartment instead of going out with their friends. They were both exhausted from the long week, and they could always go out tomorrow night.

So, there they were, sitting on the couch watching "The Princess Bride." It was one of Jess's favorite movies and one of the few either of them owned. Sam liked it well enough, but even though he had seen it several times, it suddenly struck him that evening just how much Inigo Montoya had in common with his Dad.

Inigo had dedicated his entire life to tracking down and killing the man who had murdered his father, just as Dad had spent the last twenty-two years, Sam and Dean's entire lives, trying to find the thing that had killed Mom. Both had trained and studied endlessly to prepare for that moment of confrontation with their opponents. It was all they thought about.

In the movie, Inigo succeeds, and then doesn't know what to do with himself because he knows nothing other than training and moving towards revenge. Sam wondered if his Dad would ever be able to get his revenge, and what he'd do after it was all over. Did John Winchester even know what it meant to have a life outside of hunting anymore?

That brought Sam to the future. Jess shifted against him, moving closer and draping an arm over him. Her soft hair brushed against his chin as she lowered her head from his shoulder to his chest, and he found himself wondering if Jess would want to be a part of his future.

Would she continue to stay with someone who couldn't share his whole self with her? He often wondered if what little he could give her would be enough to last, when there was so much about him that he couldn't tell her. It was the only thing that had been keeping him from taking the next step into a more long-term commitment, the fear that his unknown past would be what would ultimately push her away.

He tightened his arms around her and let his head sink to rest on top of hers. The comfort of simply having here i_there/i_, holding her, and the joy he felt when he was around her, more happiness than he had ever felt through anyone else, told him that no matter how it all turned out, he had to try. One of the first things Dean had taught him was to never let his fear hold him back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Man…this is going to be a _killer_ test," Sam said, relaxing back into his chair with a sigh of relief. He and Pete had just spent the last three hours pouring over notes, textbooks, and various odds and ends trying to force their minds to absorb enough psychology to pass tomorrow's test.

"Yeah," Pete replied. "No kidding. This stuff is complex enough, and _three _chapters of it? Near impossible."

"How was your weekend?" Sam asked. "We missed you Saturday night."

"Ah, it was just _loads_ of fun," Pete rolled his eyes to accent his sarcasm. "Got all my history reading done though, at least."

Pete shifted in his seat and Sam was barely able to notice a sudden change in his demeanor. Just like last Friday, he looked…nervous.

"So…" Pete started, "how's Jess? I haven't seen her yet."

"She's great," Sam replied, brushing off his doubts, not allowing himself to worry about Pete. "We're both liking the apartment, and she had a good summer with her family. Her classes are alright so far."

Sam paused for a moment as his thoughts from Friday night came back to him once again.

"Hey Pete…" he asked, leaning forward out of his relaxed position to put his chin in his hands and glance sideways at his friend. "Do you think…how young is too young to…get married?"

Pete looked up sharply, straight at Sam for the first time since they'd stopped studying.

"You're thinking of…proposing? To Jess?"

"Who else would I be thinking of proposing to?" Sam asked sardonically, subconsciously trying to cover up his anxiety over how his friend might respond.

Pete suddenly looked away and began packing up his things.

"Um…no. I don't think you should."

Sam looked down for a moment, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Why not?"

"Too soon," Pete replied, zipping up his backpack. "You're both still in school and you'll be going to law school next year who knows where."

Pete got up, obviously intending to leave, and Sam looked up at him again in confusion.

"Wait…where are you going?"

"I forgot I've got a meeting to go to tonight," Pete replied, already turning to walk away. "I'm already late."

"Oh. Well…I guess we'll talk later?"

"Sure," Pete said over his shoulder as he exited the study room, leaving behind a very bewildered Sam.

_Well, that was a sudden exit_, Sam thought, and wondered what had bought it on. Pete had been fine up until he mentioned Jess…

Sam had no idea what it was, but there was definitely something seriously wrong with his friend and he couldn't ignore it any longer. It was time to pay a visit to Pete's roommate while Sam knew Pete wouldn't be around.

-------

Chris was exactly where Sam expected to find him—in his dorm room on his laptop with his music blasting. This time, it was Metallica's "Devil's Dance," and Sam couldn't help feeling a part of himself cringe even as he smiled fondly at the familiar tune. It was one of Dean's favorite songs, and he had always liked to crank up the volume when it came on in the Impala to cover up Sam's inevitable "bitching and complaining" about his taste in music.

Sam had to move up right next to Chris to finally get his attention over Metallica.

"Hey, Sam! Sorry, didn't see ya, man. What's up?"

"I was looking for you, actually," Sam said, raising his voice over the music. "Wanted to talk to you about Pete."

"Okay, sure," Chris said, finally turning down the music enough so that Sam didn't feel like he was having to shout over it.

"I've just noticed that he hasn't really been…himself, lately," Sam started. "And he told me something happened, but didn't want to talk about it. I was going to leave it alone, like he asked, but he's really starting to worry me. Has he said anything to you, or have you noticed anything?"

Chris's face grew more serious and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I've been thinking he's acting strange, too, but he hasn't said anything to me. He hasn't really been here much, though, and I haven't paid much attention. Thought maybe he was just stressed over classes or something."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam said, not sounding convinced. "It's just…he was fine a couple weeks ago. I talked to him over the phone about meeting up when we both got back. And it's like he's been avoiding me, almost. You don't think i_I_/i did anything, do you?"

"Nah," Chris said, shaking his head. "You know he'd tell you if it was something you did." Chris sighed and shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, man. Wish I could help, but that's all I know."

"Alright. Thanks anyway," Sam said, sighing in frustration. "Let me know if he says anything, will you?"

"Sure, no problem," Chris said, turning the music back up and giving his full attention back to his computer.

Sam took a step towards the door and was about to leave when he saw something chillingly familiar out of the corner of his eye. He moved over to Pete's desk to take a closer look. A yellowish, chalky residue, barely even there, on the corner of the desk.

Just because he thought he recognized it didn't mean he had to believe it. He reached down and scratched some of it off of the desk with his fingernail and tentatively brought it up to his nose to smell it. Shocked disbelief and fear were the first emotions that gripped him when he realized he had been right. It was sulfur.

He immediately brushed the power off of his finger and left the dorm room, now eager to get out before Pete returned. He couldn't go back to the apartment now, not yet. He needed time to think about what to do next. Very few things left a sulfur residue, and combined with how Pete had been acting lately, there was only one of those things it could be.

Besides a coincidence. Sam vowed that he wouldn't rule it out yet, just to be on the safe side. Something _normal _could have happened to Pete, and maybe the sulfur had come from a science lab or something. Lots of the chemistry classes used sulfur.

But he also had to be prepared. He couldn't even count the number of times when "coincidences" had almost gotten him killed. And this…if he was right, this was going to be one hell of a job. If he was right, Pete was possessed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam had encountered more deranged, murderous spirits throughout the course of his life than he cared to remember. Along with spirits, he had been allowed on hunts for a myriad of other creatures with his Dad and brother, most of which they had encountered many times before even if Sam hadn't. But, altogether, the three of them had dealt with demonic possession only twice.

The first time had been when Sam was 15. John had been reluctant to bring Sam along since he had never dealt with a demon before, but had decided, in the end, that Sam's Latin could use a little practice under stress. It was an experience Sam would never forget. He had fought a lot of scary things, even by that point in his life, but a demon is something else entirely.

With John's practice of always telling his boys only what he thought they needed to know and nothing more, he hadn't warned them that demons lie. So, when the demon started screeching to Sam about how his mother's death, and, as a result, the way the remains of his family now lived, were all his fault, Sam was shocked into stopping in the middle of reading the exorcism. John had had to finish it, and the demon had turned to trying to convince John that Mary was burning in hell once it realized Sam was no longer a threat.

The second time had been much easier, a few years later, since they all knew what they were dealing with. They got separated during the chase, though, and Sam had missed the actual exorcism. He could tell, afterward, that Dean had been the one to do it, because something was bothering him. Whatever the demon had said this time had done a real number on Dean. But when Sam asked him about it, tried to get him to talk about it, he got a typical evasive reply—_Demons lie, Sammy_—and that was the end of it.

For the second time in as many weeks, Sam thought about calling his Dad or Dean. He'd never gone on any hunts by himself before, and he didn't really like the thought of facing down a demon alone. He came closer than he ever had to actually doing it, and he might have if he hadn't thought about what it would be like when they came.

Even if they were all the way on the other side of the country, Dad would order him to wait, which was bad enough. As far as Sam could tell, Pete hadn't done anything violent yet, but with demons, it was only a matter of time. Then, when Dad and Dean actually got there…seeing them after all this time would be difficult and awkward, to say the least. He knew there wouldn't be any talking about what had happened between them; Dad would be all business as usual, and he'd take command and order Sam around, expecting complete, unquestioning obedience. That, Sam could not stand. It was part of the reason why he'd left, and he couldn't go back to that.

So Sam made his preparations on his own. He went back to the library and got online. He spent a while searching the internet for exorcisms, having to weed through sites made by people who really didn't know what they were talking about until he found a legitimate one and wrote it down in his notebook. He made it to the local grocery store right before it closed at eleven and bought the biggest container of salt they sold and a 2-liter bottle of water. He stopped to sit down on the first bench he saw, opened the water, and recited the quick Latin blessing that would turn it into holy water.

Now that he had everything he needed, he wasn't quite sure what he would do next. He wanted to do it now, to get it over with before the demon started getting ugly, but he had no idea where Pete was.

Wherever he was, Sam figured he had to go back to his dorm room to sleep eventually, so Sam headed back to where he had been earlier. After making sure Pete wasn't already in his room, Sam went back down the hall to a small common area. Most people didn't even use it, and at this time of night, it was deserted. Sam set the bottle of holy water and the salt out beside him, got out one of his books to read, and settled down to wait.

-------

Sam sat there for an hour, pretending to be engrossed in his psychology textbook. In actuality, he had every sense trained on the slightest noise or movement. Once, at about half past eleven, he heard footsteps, and thought it might be Pete coming back. He put a hand next to the bottle of holy water and watched carefully as whoever it was came closer and closer to passing the doorway to the common room…but it wasn't Pete. It was just a student passing through.

Finally, he heard another set of footsteps, and Sam could tell these belonged to somebody in a hurry. He barely had time to glance up to see Pete rushing past towards his dorm room.

"Hey, Pete!" He called, getting up to move towards the door to the room. Pete stopped and turned around, and looked confused when he saw Sam there.

"Sam…hey. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," Sam replied, letting some of his stress show, hoping Pete—or the demon, rather—would buy it. "Please? You left so fast earlier, and it'll only take a minute."

"Well…" Pete sighed. "I guess. Sure."

Sam motioned Pete into the common room and followed him, heart pounding. He was still holding out the hope that he was wrong. He'd throw the holy water and nothing would happen, Pete would be really wet, he'd end up looking like an idiot, and that would be the end of it.

While Pete's back was still turned walking into the room, Sam grabbed the bottle of holy water and tossed a liberal amount of it onto Pete in one fluid motion before Pete could even have a chance of stopping him.

His heart sank as he recognized the familiar signs. Steam rose from the body of his friend immediately on contact with the holy water, and an inhuman screech came from his mouth as he writhed in a futile attempt to escape the pain.

Sam knew he didn't have much time; holy water only works as a temporary distraction, and he hoped that nobody had heard the demon's shriek and would decide to come investigate. Pete turned around to face him, and even though Sam had been expecting it, it still shocked him to see it in the face of one of his closest friends. Though it was Pete's body, it was no longer Pete. His face was contorted in a snarl of rage and hatred, and his eyes had gone jet-black.

Sam executed a quick, strong right hook. It hit Pete square in the jaw and sent him flying further into the room. Combined with the pain of the holy water, it made the demon lose its footing and fall backwards to the ground.

_Sorry, Pete_, Sam silently apologized to his friend, but didn't waste any time. He poured more of the holy water onto Pete, incapacitating the demon long enough to grab the container of salt and lay a solid ring around it.

Sam stepped back, chest heaving with nervousness as much as the physical exertion. The hardest part was over, and he'd done it. The demon couldn't cross over the ring of salt as long as it stayed solid, and all he had to do was read the exorcism to send it back to hell where it belonged.

He pulled his notebook out from under his psychology textbook and opened it to the marked page where he had written down the exorcism. He glanced up at the demon. It had sat up but was still breathing heavily, dealing with the lingering pain of the holy water. It clenched its jaw once and then looked right up at Sam with those black, black eyes that seemed to see right through him into the darkest parts of his past.

"The great Sam Winchester himself," The demon said in Pete's voice, grinning. "We finally meet."

Sam ignored it and started reading. _"Regno terrae cantate Deo, soli te Domino pre fertum super celum tribute virtutem deo exorcizamus te spiritus admissi satanica—"_

"Once a hunter, always a hunter," it said, raising its voice to be sure Sam heard it. "You can try to escape your fate, but you will fail."

Sam had expected it to talk about his Dad and brother, maybe even his Mom. He had anticipated the possibility that it would talk about him trying to escape his past, so he wasn't caught completely off-guard. He forced himself to keep ignoring what the demon was saying, not pausing in his recitation.

"_Potestas admissi curgio infernalis adversali et omnis letio omnis congregatio et sectario perditiones venenam propinare Vade satana—"_

"After all you've done to get away, to feel _safe_, look where you are now. Taking on a demon all by yourself," it said mockingly, its voice gaining strength as it continued to recover from the holy water. It slowly, carefully stood up within the circle.

Sam kept his voice steady, working to retain his control. _"Inventor et magister omnis invocato at nomi santo et tribali nomine quem inferi tremant. A mercedes diavoli libera nos domine—"_

"It's amusing, really, your futile attempts to avoid your destiny," it said, and if Sam had been watching it more carefully, he would have noticed a dangerous glint penetrate Pete's blackened eyes before it continued. "And now, all you've managed to do is put others in danger because of your childish denial."

Sam's voice faltered, but he continued anyway, knowing that it would all be over once he finished reading. _"Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facies. libertate servire te rogamus audi nos sante ecclesiae te rogamos audi nos In nominis deus sanctuario tuus—"_

"Too bad your little girlfriend will be the first to go."

Sam looked up sharply into cold black eyes, all awareness of the situation fleeing his mind. _Jess_.

The demon's grinned as it realized it had finally hit a nerve. "Yes, that's right. _Jessica_. You haven't told her the truth. You haven't taught her anything, how to protect herself. She won't have a chance."

"Why?" Sam spat out angrily, not trusting himself to say anything else, part of him trying to get him to wait, hold on, find out what the demon meant, the other part straining to cross over the circle of salt and knock it out on principle alone before finishing the exorcism.

"Why haven't you told her? I don't know, that's your question to answer. Why does Jess have to die?" It smirked, knowing its words were hitting their mark. "I've told you that already. You can't escape your future, and Jess isn't a part of it. You think I'm here by accident? I was _sent_. We have plans for you, Sammy."

_Sammy_. His childhood nickname snapped him out of his blind rage and fear for Jess, and he heard Dean's voice in his head—_Demons lie, Sammy_—and that was all he needed.

"_Exert tua virtute et fortitudinem levi sue benedectis deus gloria patri!"_ Sam shouted out the last line of the exorcism before the demon had the chance to say anything else. It let out a snarl of frustration, but it was too late. It dropped to its knees, crossing its arms over its chest in a futile attempt to hold on and avoid being sent back to hell.

Pete's body convulsed as if he was going to retch, and he lurched forward before he snapped upright again and threw his head back. A volatile, black, smoky substance began flooding upwards out of his mouth. Sam watched as it dispersed and disappeared against the ceiling, not relaxing until all of it was gone.

As the last of it vanished, Sam turned his attention back to his friend. Pete had fallen forward onto the floor and lay unmoving in the now scattered salt circle.

Sam dropped his notebook and knelt down at Pete's side. He rolled him over onto his back and quickly checked for injuries. He was relieved to find none aside from a small bump where his forehead had hit the floor. Sam reached to gently brush the salt off where it had stuck to Pete's forehead, and Pete groaned and moved his head away in response.

"Pete?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Sam?" Pete asked groggily, blinking in the direction of Sam's voice above him, trying to focus enough to be able to see.

"Yeah, Pete, it's me. I'm here." Pete moved to attempt sitting up, but Sam stopped him. "Whoa there, just hold on a second. Just stay there for another minute or two, wait until you feel like getting up." Pete looked like he might argue for a minute, but he relaxed, letting Sam lower him back to the floor.

"Sam…" he started, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to recall something. "Sam, I couldn't…_do_ anything, I couldn't talk, I was trapped—"

"I know, Pete," Sam interrupted as his friend's voice started to grow frantic. "I know. It's okay now, it's gone. You're okay."

Sam sighed in relief as he sat by Pete waiting for him to regain his coherence. It was over. He was safe again. He and Jess were safe.

-----

**Note:** In "Devil's Trap," Bobby says that normally, there are only 2 or 3 demonic possessions a year; that's what I based how many times Sam has been up a demon before on. Going by that, him only facing a demon twice before makes sense. The exorcism Sam reads here is (roughly) the one from "Devil's Trap."

One more chapter left to wrap things up with Sam and Jess and bring it up to the pilot episode. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The endearingly familiar smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies embraced Sam as he opened the door to he and Jess's apartment late that night. He was trying to be quiet, assuming that she would already be asleep this late, but as he closed the door, he recognized Jess's silhouette in the light coming from the kitchen. He felt an immense, overwhelming relief at seeing her safe. He knew he'd gotten rid of the demon, but it didn't keep him from worrying, especially after what it had said.

"Well, it's about time!" she said, smiling and putting her hands on her hips dramatically, as if he were in trouble. "Have you _really_ been studying all this time? Must be one hell of a psych test. Even _you_ don't usually study for this long!"

A strange sensation came over Sam in that moment, there in the darkness of the TV room with Jess standing in the pool of light from the kitchen. He was drawn to her with an intensity he'd never felt before, not because of her but because of him. If he had learned anything in his wild, bizarre life, it was to trust his instincts, and he knew that whatever this was wasn't bad, wasn't going to hurt him.

Not that he could have resisted it even if he wanted to. He let his backpack slide off of his shoulder to the floor and left it behind as he went over to where Jess was standing and took her in his arms, breathing in white daisies and the summer sun after the rain, letting her chase away thoughts of ghost and demons and evil creatures lurking in the night.

"Come on, I made cookies," she said, pulling away and giving him a quick kiss before leaving him at the kitchen door to remove the last batch from the oven.

Sam felt the loss of her presence like a physical blow. He wanted to move through the door, enter the kitchen and go help her. But he felt something holding him back, so he leaned sideways on the doorframe instead. He found out what it was when something the demon had said that night rose unbidden in his mind. _You can't escape your future, and Jess isn't a part of it._

Sam knew that demons lie. Dean had taught him that. Then, if this demon had lied, Jess had to be a part of his future, because it had said she wasn't.

That's when he decided he would ask her to marry him. Not yet, but soon. He had to find a ring first, maybe let a few more months of them living together go by, make sure everything was still going to work out.

He made a promise to himself, right then and there. He was done with the supernatural, for good. No more. That was it. If he had to, he'd protect himself and Jess from something, but that was it. He swore, right then and there, that he was done hunting.

He shifted his weight away from the doorframe and stepped through the doorway, out of the shadows of the darkened room behind him and into the warm glow of the kitchen towards Jess.

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Three weeks later, he had the nightmare for the first time.

He was in their apartment, in the dream, coming home from something, because there was his packed duffel bag sitting on the floor. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding one of Jess's cookies. He could taste it, the best cookies in the world, because she always put so many chocolate chips in them and the dough was still soft and warm.

He laid back on the bed and closed his eyes, in the dream, and sighed, completely content and happy to be back from wherever he had been. He would have been worried that Jess wasn't already in the bed asleep this late at night, but he could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and he was too tired to open his eyes and get up to go see her. He could see her when she got out.

Suddenly, in the dream, he felt something wet hit his forehead, and a second drop of whatever it was followed suit. Confused, he opened his eyes to see the most horrifying thing he could ever imagine.

There was Jess, pinned to the ceiling above him, her golden hair fanned out around her head. He knew what was on his forehead now—her _blood_—because he had known that tangy, coppery smell since childhood when Dad and Dean would come back injured from a hunt gone wrong and he could see the red stain seeping through Jess's white nightgown at her stomach. Her beautiful face, her sea-foam-blue eyes, were frozen in an expression of eternal terror and panic and confusion, begging Sam for some sort of explanation as to why this was happening to her.

"_No!_" his dream-self yelled, and flames erupted around her, roaring and spreading outwards from her body to cover the whole ceiling. Sam felt the heat from the fire reach him, stifle him, tasted ash and smoke on his tongue, and he could do nothing but lay there while the woman he loved burned, burned…

Sam sat up abruptly, awake, his chest heaving. He looked beside him, frantically…and there Jess was, sleeping peacefully beside him. Not on the ceiling, not burning, not dying.

Sam put his head in his hands, trying to will away the headache brought on by the intense nightmare. It had all seemed so real. It had _felt_ real. A tiny voice inside him pointed out the obvious—he had just dreamed of Jess dying the exact same way his Mom had. It was just like Dad had always told him and Dean it had happened. Pinned to the ceiling, blood dripping from the stomach, staring down at you before erupting into flames that spread to consume everything.

But it had just been a nightmare. Right? What the demon had said three weeks ago, that Jess would die because she wasn't part of his future, that hadn't been true. It wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. Could it?

No. Never. Sam wouldn't let it. Besides, it had only been a nightmare. A vivid one, but still just a nightmare, a bad dream. Just a dream.

_Just a dream_.

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Hope you enjoyed this! Please review and let me know what you're thinking; I like constructive criticism best. :D


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